The Butterfly Tango
by DetectableNinja
Summary: Bruce (not exactly the most popular boy at school) talks to his newfound friend and total crush, Steve (not exactly the least popular boy at school) every day after English. It always gives Bruce butterflies to talk to him, but today his feelings for Steve are especially strong. Maybe those butterflies will finally be let out. [High School AU, Fluff]


Steve's mouth forms words but all Bruce can look at are his eyes. They're standing by the lockers outside Mr. Fury's Creative Writing class. This part of the day always seems to conjure up a bizarre mixture of joy and dread for Bruce, making him feel at once queasy and on top of the world. He and Steve don't get a chance to talk much, so Bruce has learned to cherish these few couple minutes after the last period of the day.

"Bruce?"

"What? What was that? I'm sorry." Bruce blinks a bit as he snaps back to reality.

Maybe he cherishes this part of the day a bit too much sometimes.

"I just...I…" Steve clenches his fists and looks like he's in pain or something. "What did you, uh, think? About my, uh, poem."

"Oh! I- I thought it was great!" says Bruce, maybe a little too loudly as Steve takes an instinctive step back. "I think," he continues, lowering his voice to a more appropriate level, noticing a teacher give him a confused look walking by. "I think," he repeats. "That the uh, infusion you did with the, you know, Gaelic mixed in there, that was a really interesting touch." Bruce smiles warmly, adding, "It was very you."

A sheepish grin spreads across Steve's face as he lets out an airy chuckle. "Thanks, Bruce. I...I was just worried that they thought it was too...weird."

Bruce can't help but burst out laughing now, running a hand through his tangled hair before placing it on Steve's shoulder. "Steve...the _last_ thing you are to them is weird. Honestly. You're the resident interpretive-dancer-slash-painter-slash-political-radical of the football team, yeah, totally. But _trust me_ on this one: no one's sneering at you anytime soon. You're a poster boy and rebel, the all-in-one deal." Bruce notices Steve's cheeks getting an absurdly cute shade of red; but Bruce knows that he's making him uncomfortable, so some part of him panics, trying to figure out how to recover from all the gushing. _Fuck fuck fuck._ "That's _them_ , though. I, of course, know you're the biggest fucking weirdo nerd in existence, even from just these _scintillating_ little chats. That adorable face can't fool me."

Steve is still blushing, and he laughs too, lookin down at the floor, scratching the back of his head. Bruce is suddenly aware of what he just said and his interior monologue goes from _fuck fuck fuck_ to _FUCK FUCK FUCK._ He adjusts his glasses with one hand and gestures at himself like some circus attraction with the other. "M- me, on the other hand," Bruce says, obviously trying to shift the focus. " _Everyone_ knows I'm a weirdo nerd. I can't even _think_ of what they think I'm actually like. Just frog dissections, and- and- and chemical equations, or whatever science geeks do."

The color only seems to have faded from Steve's cheeks a little bit, but he suddenly looks Bruce right in the eye. It's such a powerful look that Bruce starts to feel blood rushing to his own face. Steve tilts his head a bit and says in a playful, admonishing tone, "Oh, come on, Bruce. Is that all you are?"

Bruce snickers nervously. "I mean-"

"You're fucking great," Steve damn near blurts out. His eyes dart around again, looking at the ceiling, the lockers, the floor, finally coming shyly back to Bruce's face. Bruce wants to scream as the butterflies in his stomach start to tango. "I mean...obviously, we've only really been…" Steve seems to try and find the right word here. " _Friends_ , but...I mean, I know you tech for the Drama Club. I- I...come on, I know _you_ draw, too. You're poetry is really god damn weird, I'll give you that," he says, laughing again. "And, I- I- I don't know a lot more than stuff like that, but...but it's not just that. You're...you're just... _cool_. Like shit, I don't know why _you_ aren't popular."

"Oh, shut _up_ ," says Bruce, his grin now extending from ear to ear. He tries to rest his head on the locker next to him, but he goes a little too fast and bangs against it with a metallic _thunk_. "Ow! Jesus." He rubs the spot on his head. Underneath the mass of jet black hair, the skin feels tender and Bruce is suddenly thankful that no one ever sees bruises on scalps.

Steve giggles a bit with his hand covering his mouth, and then Bruce hears Steve's phone vibrate in his pocket. He sighs. _And now for the goodbye ritual._ "Ah, shit," Steve says, looking at the text message. "The motherland calls." Meaning his mom.

"All right," Bruce says, sighing quietly.

"Okay…" Steve says, typing a quick reply and pocketing the phone. "I guess I'll just, uh...see you tomorrow?"

"It's Friday."

"Oh. Well then, Monday, I guess?" asks Steve, starting to walk by Bruce.

"Uh, sure… Hey, wait!" Bruce grabs Steve's hand, and he turns and looks at Bruce. That blush starts to come back into Steve's face and Bruce could just about melt right now. _How to tell him?_ "Uh, Steve, I...I, uh… Do you want to maybe...go see a movie tomorrow? Or something?"

Steve takes a sudden, deep breath in, and then smiles widely. His cheeks are beet red once again. "Sure," he almost squeaks.

Bruce suddenly feels like his face has lit up, radiant like those portraits that he's seen Steve paint. "Uh, great! L- l- lemme, uh, give you my number then? You can, uh, text me with what works?"

"Yeah, definitely," says Steve, whipping out his phone in under two seconds.

Bruce gives him his number. Before Steve turns again to go, he quickly wraps his arms around Bruce in a hug before just as quickly letting him go. "Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow" he says, and then walks away in a hurry. Watching Steve's feet rise and fall and his hips sway a bit, Bruce is suddenly aware of how fast his heart is beating. When Steve enters the stairwell, finally disappearing from view, Bruce allows himself to laugh, letting out the butterflies.

His phone chimes, so he pulls it out and looks at the screen:

 _Clint: What's up? We were supposed to meet the other guys at McD's 5 min ago_

"Shit," Bruce mutters under his breath and starts walking toward the stairs to leave. He gets another message from Clint.

 _Clint: Let me guess. U got held up by Dreamy Stevey again? Nat says ur so obvious n need to just tell him already btw. Meet us out front._

He stops just short of the stairwell and sends a quick response.

 _Bruce: Be there soon :)_

Bruce walks down the stairs to the first floor and leaves the school building. The door makes a satisfying _clunk_ when Bruce pushes it open, and he's dazzled by how blue the sky is today. The color is unnatural, and reminds him of Steve's eyes. Clint calls out his name from the parking lot, and Bruce starts to make his way over to him.

As he walks, Bruce wonders what it would be like if the sky could blush.


End file.
